


The Course of True Love

by Shinybug



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Episode Related, F/M, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breaking the love spell didn't go quite according to plan. (Alternate version of 2x10 Sweet Dreams.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Course of True Love

*~*~*~*

Merlin, following hard on Gwen's heels, marveled at how hot a woman's temper could run. Men, for the most part (love potions notwithstanding) were simpler creatures at the core. Women, Merlin observed, were unmatched for complexity when it came to matters of the heart. Gwen marched herself into Arthur's tourney tent with all the determination and force of a windstorm, and Merlin hung back just outside with his eye to the gap, curious and heartsick in equal measures.

"Ah, finally come to wish me luck?" Arthur asked jovially, straightening his shirt. "Because I really don't think I need it anymore."

"No, Arthur. I have not come to wish you luck," Gwen replied, and Merlin winced at the pain and disappointment in her voice.

Arthur frowned. "Honestly, that's rather rude."

Gwen took a deep breath, and Merlin clutched at the tent fabric. "Then let me make amends," she said, and she drove Arthur back against a pillar and pressed her lips to his.

Merlin bit his own lip and tried to look away, but found himself riveted to the spot with his eyes unable to see anything else. It hurt, it hurt terribly, but Merlin knew he would rather have Arthur alive and in love with another than dead for the sake of false love. He took a shaky breath and waited, watching Arthur's frown above Gwen's dark curls as she pulled back finally.

"What am I doing?" Arthur asked, faintly appalled.

"You're in a fight. To the death," Gwen whispered, and Merlin saw Arthur's eyes go wide. "You're losing."

That was Merlin's cue, he figured, and gripped the tent flap in preparation to enter now that Arthur had regained his senses. The kiss of true love, and all that rubbish.

"No," Arthur said sharply, sounding rattled. "I meant, 'what am I doing with _you?_ '"

That drew Merlin up in mid-step, and Gwen's head shook a little with obvious confusion.

"With me?" Gwen echoed.

"Right," Arthur clarified, putting his hands up and stepping back. "If Lady Vivian were to see you here...Guinevere, my lady is as fierce as a summer storm and I will not be held responsible for any harm that might come to you for your actions."

Gwen looked over her shoulder in bewilderment and anger, finding Merlin's face at the gap and sending him a wordless, ' _what?_ ' that Merlin could only make a helpless gesture at. He watched her face turn stony and her eyes sharpen with resolve.

The second time she kissed Arthur it was more a mashing of lips than a true kiss, and Merlin had a better view of it this time. He cringed, for it looked painful and angry, but surely the spell would be broken now.

But then Arthur was gently setting her back from him, saying, "Really, Guinevere, this is just too much. My heart belongs to another."

Merlin's frown deepened and he tugged at his neckerchief in frustration and fear. If this didn't work, Arthur would surely lose the last fight. Although he clearly couldn't feel it, Merlin knew he'd sustained injuries that would hinder him as greatly as his distraction by Lady Vivian's presence.

"Arthur," Gwen said softly, her voice trembling with a certain resignation that Merlin despaired to hear. "All right, then."

She stepped forward a third time, past Arthur's protesting hands, and brushed her lips softly against his. Arthur looked confused when she stepped back, a childlike lack of understanding on his expressive face.

"You are very nice, Guinevere, but you are not the one for me." Arthur's tone was firm but gentle. "My love is outside this tent, not within it."

"Yes, I can see that. I wish you luck, Arthur Pendragon, as I did not before. Goodbye."

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears when Gwen joined Merlin outside the tent. "It didn't work," she said simply, her hands twisted in her skirt.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Merlin said desperately. "It could be a different kind of spell, maybe we could try--"

"No." Gwen shook her head sadly. "I kissed him three times. Three times and I meant each one in different ways, and you can't tell me the spell is strong enough to withstand that."

"But I know he loves you, truly," Merlin insisted, embarrassed to hear his voice rising in pitch.

"I believe he does," Gwen agreed. "But maybe there is someone else he loves _more_."

Merlin blinked at her and clutched at his hair. "But the third round of the tourney starts any minute now, and I have no idea who that person could be or where I could find her. Could...maybe...Morgana?"

Gwen's chuckle was wobbly. "No, Merlin, I think not."

"Then Arthur will die."

"Why don't you kiss him yourself, then?"

Merlin boggled at her for a moment, seeing how clearly she looked at him through her pain, how she seemed to know somehow. Truly, a woman was a terrifying force of nature. "But...the kiss has to be from the one _Arthur_ truly loves, not the other way around. Even if I...it wouldn't matter, any more than when you kissed him."

Gwen's eyes were very sad. "Merlin, I have loved Arthur a long time, and I have watched him closely because I could not touch him. I would not have suggested such a thing if I didn't think there was some possible truth to it."

There was a dull roaring in Merlin's ears that Merlin eventually recognized as his heartbeat. "I'm sorry," he said to Gwen, because he could not think what else to say.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." She pressed her hand briefly to his and then walked away in the direction of the castle.

"You'll not stay to see how things end up?"

Gwen paused but didn't turn. "No, Merlin. I'll not stay." She continued on her way and her steps looked heavy but determined.

Merlin could hear the sounds of the tourney marshals getting ready to announce the third round, so without thinking he flung himself through the door of the tent. Arthur was inside struggling with his armor, half in and half out of it, smiling like a fool.

"Your gorget is on backwards, my lord," Merlin said, reaching up to readjust it.

"Well, if I didn't have the worst servant in the kingdom, who abandoned me to my own devices right before my moment of triumph, I wouldn't have had to get dressed on my own, now would I?" Arthur cupped Merlin's cheeks in his palms and patted them lightly.

Merlin's face warmed. "Of course not, sire. But, ah...about that 'moment of triumph' bit. I'm afraid it's more likely to be a 'moment of mortal peril.'"

"You're always worrying, Merlin. You forget--in love, all things are possible." Arthur grinned widely, as happy and hopeful as a carefree youth.

Merlin sighed deeply, his fingers caught in the neck of the gorget. "I hope that's true, Arthur," he muttered, then tugged Arthur forward by his armor and kissed him.

It was not the greatest kiss in the history of the world. Bards would not sing about the passion of the kiss, the skillfulness or dramatic clutching of limbs. No one emerged from the kiss with mussed hair or heavy breathing or clothing askew. No one's honor was compromised.

But it was perhaps the truest kiss ever given or received, the purest form of devotion and loyalty. Merlin could feel the spell break against his lips, a light fizzle of energy like a spark from a lightning bug. He lifted his mouth from Arthur's and Arthur followed him for a moment, eyes dazed and lost.

"What...why..." Arthur implored, his hands coming up to rest on Merlin's shoulders, thumbs against Merlin's neck. He grimaced suddenly and shifted his weight around. "And, _ow_."

"True love's kiss, blah blah, love spell, fight to the death, blah blah," Merlin explained, his heart racing fast enough to make him dizzy as he hustled Arthur into the rest of his armor. "Haven't really got the time now, sire, so you'll just have to trust me, and _don't die_."

"But," Arthur protested, clutching automatically at the helm that Merlin thrust into his arms. "You kissed me."

Merlin sighed. "This whole thing was to prevent you from being distracted, not offer you a different distraction. Look, I love you, you clearly love me, and there's a whole big mess to be sorted out once you've not died horribly at the hands of King Olaf, but first you have to go out there and _not die_." He gave Arthur a shove at the door of the tent.

Arthur resisted long enough to catch Merlin by the back of the neck with his gauntleted hand. He pinned Merlin with his gaze, which was now clear for the first time in days but haunted by more ghosts than Merlin could put name to at that moment. There was love in that look, and unhappiness too, and guilt and sorrow, because Merlin knew that real love was not all joy and sunshine and Trickler's magic butterflies.

Merlin smiled encouragingly at him, putting on a brave face, and Arthur leaned in to kiss him. This kiss, while still not the greatest kiss in the history of the world, certainly made the top thirty.

*~*~*~*

Gwen was somehow not surprised to find a note on her table when she came home that night, nor was she surprised to see Arthur sitting there with his chin in his hand, fiddling with the note.

"I was going to leave this for you, but then I thought it would be better if I stayed. I don't want any more misunderstandings between us." Arthur sounded resigned but gentle.

"May I read it?" Gwen asked, and Arthur held it out for her. The note simply said, ' _I'm sorry, I love another_.' She sat down at the table opposite him and folded her hands. "Yes, I suspected you did."

"It's not Lady Vivian," Arthur was quick to point out.

"No," Gwen agreed with a rueful smile. "No, I'm certain it's not."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. So am I."

Arthur reached out and touched Gwen's fingers, caught them in his own. "I do love you, Guinevere. I want you to know, it wasn't a lie, it just..."

"You love Merlin more." She tightened her fingers around Arthur's when his began to tremble.

"I do. I really do. I didn't mean to. I shouldn't. Can't. But I do." Arthur's face was pale and exhausted, and Gwen was reminded of his convalescence after the Questing Beast, of her own feelings for him then and also of the way Merlin had hovered around his bedside for weeks like a frightened bird trapped in a windowless room.

"Well. I didn't mean to love Lancelot, my lord, but I do," Gwen offered up honestly. "I know well what it's like to love two people at once, to be confused and not know which is the greater or truer love. I can't judge you for it."

Arthur looked down at the scarred table top, tracing a gash in the wood with his fingernail. "I suppose this is for the best then," he said, stealing a glance up at Gwen for confirmation.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"It doesn't feel...good, though," Arthur said with a frown. "Not a clean cut."

"Well," Gwen allowed, rising to pick out the wilted flowers from the vibrant ones in her vase. "I don't imagine these things ever are."

"Thank you, Guinevere," Arthur said, standing and bowing formally to her, as a prince would to a fine lady.

"Don't thank me, Arthur. Neither of us has done anything here worthy of it. You could throw these out when you go, though," she said, handing him the bedraggled wildflowers and then carefully arranging what was left in the vase.

"You wouldn't rather just toss the lot?" Arthur asked, nodding awkwardly at his erroneous gesture of love.

She shook her head. "No, I think I'll keep the rest until they've died. No sense in wasting a perfectly good bunch of flowers, especially when I know how long Merlin spent picking them out."

Arthur flushed down into the collar of his tunic and he ducked his head in acknowledgment, turning to go.

"Arthur," Gwen called, and he paused in the doorway. "I'm glad it's Merlin. If it had to be anybody, I'm glad it's him."

Arthur gave her a lopsided smile. "Me too."

*~*~*~*

"Why didn't you say something before?" Merlin asked of Arthur, who was seated opposite him in the window seat, their naked legs entwined beneath a blanket with a platter of fruit between them.

"Why didn't you?" Arthur countered with a raised brow.

"Point," Merlin conceded, nibbling on a grape.

"I guess all this mess could have been avoided if I'd only dragged you up to my room the first time we met like I'd wanted to instead of down into the dungeons," Arthur mused, sliding his toe along Merlin's inner thigh and making him squirm.

"Really? Since then?" Merlin asked, pleased and surprised. It was much later when Merlin had recognized that his loathing for the prince of Camelot had stolen away like a thief in the night, leaving something entirely different in its place.

Arthur shrugged. "You stood up to me. Before you came along, no one ever did that. Naturally it made me want to shag you stupid, but I was afraid I'd cause irreparable damage to what little intelligence you appeared to have left."

"That's kind of you, my lord, thinking of my welfare," Merlin said sweetly, leaning forward to press a blackberry against Arthur's lips while nestling his foot threateningly against Arthur's balls.

Arthur's eyes widened and he grinned, sinking his teeth into Merlin's fingers as he took the fruit.

"Are you happy?" Merlin asked suddenly, leaning back against the window frame. Outside the red of the sunset blended with the blue of the stained glass to cast the room in a wash of royal purple, a color of love and passion and the bruises beneath the bandage over Arthur's ribs.

Arthur's face fell. "Not...exactly. I think I've felt too much today to be happy. But I know that there's nowhere else I'd rather be than here." He cleared his throat. "With you," he added.

"That's a start, then," Merlin said softly, catching Arthur's fingers with his own. "The course of true love never did run smooth."

Arthur cocked his head. "That's awfully poetic, for a servant who mainly complains and slings insults."

Merlin narrowed his eyes threateningly but Arthur just smiled at him, lazy and pleasure-sated. "I didn't make it up--well, I guess I did, actually. I dreamed it."

"You dreamed it." Arthur popped another blackberry into his mouth and squashed it lewdly with his tongue, and Merlin could smell the sharp scent of the fruit in the air.

"Never mind, you'll laugh." Merlin felt his cheeks flush, embarrassed and turned on.

"I won't," Arthur assured him. "Well, I might a bit, but I'll make it up to you later."

"I like this new incentive plan," Merlin said happily.

"You would," Arthur replied, his eyes dark with promise.

"So I had this dream a few months ago. It was a strange dream, very real, like I had been there before and I knew all the people. Like it was more memory than dream. I mean, obviously it wasn't, although it felt like that, you know?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and did something inappropriate to a blueberry.

"Anyway," Merlin pressed on, clearing his throat and reaching a hand down to adjust himself, which Arthur tracked with his eyes. "I dreamed I was in this funny round theater watching a play, and everyone was wearing very odd clothes, like something from the future. Very fancy. I think there was a queen in the audience. And you were there with me, only you didn't look like you and I didn't look like me, and the actor on the stage was saying, ' _Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth_.'"

Arthur was watching him with a funny look in his eyes, less lustful and more inquisitive, but definitely not laughing.

"And then Not-you looked at Not-me and smiled, like we knew a secret. It was all very odd and sort of wonderful."

"What was the play about?" Arthur asked, head cocked to the side.

"Love spells, I think, and lovers chasing after the wrong people. A great big mix-up. And there was a man dressed as a donkey."

"And how did it end?"

Merlin shook his head. "I have no idea. I overslept that morning and you came to my room to wake me up by dropping a pile of clothes on my head. The dream ended too soon."

"And you should be thankful it wasn't a bucket of water," Arthur said loftily, and then his features smoothed into contemplation. "You're very strange, Merlin. Very strange indeed."

"But you love me anyway," Merlin said, smirking, crossing his arms over his naked chest.

Arthur got up on his knees, displacing the platter of fruit which clattered to the floor, sending grapes and berries rolling. The blanket pooled on the window seat, leaving all that delicate skin bare to the sight, and Merlin's mouth watered at seeing the teeth marks on Arthur's hipbone that Merlin himself had put there not an hour ago. Arthur leaned forward, bracing his hand on the window frame beside Merlin's head.

"I do love you," Arthur said, and his voice broke with the newness and strangeness of it but his mouth on Merlin's was sure and tasted like berries. He caught Merlin's chin in his free hand and tilted his head back for a better angle, darting his tongue sweetly into Merlin's mouth and then withdrawing, over and over until Merlin was panting against him, fighting the tangle of the blanket to get to Arthur. Merlin could see nothing but sunset purple glowing through his closed lids, could feel nothing but the cool air from the window pane and the heat that radiated from Arthur's skin.

"Arthur," he moaned, clutching at Arthur's arms, pulling him down while Arthur kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, like there was nothing he needed more, not breath or life or kingdoms. And as far as history goes, that kiss was easily among the top ten.

~end~

**Author's Note:**

> Although I have borrowed some lines of dialogue from the episode, I do not own those lines, nor anything else Merlin-related (All Hail the BBC). Nor do I own Shakespeare's words, although I admit to fancying him probably more than one should a man who has been dead four hundred years. Also, I really do like Gwen, and I hope I succeeded in letting her off the hook gently. It was a necessary evil in the pursuit of (true) true love.


End file.
